Azsuna Interlude
by Thesseli
Summary: The Ebon Blade begins a new assault on the Broken Isles. Written for Liontrust Week 2017, Day 5: NSFW/Crack. The sequel to 'The Ebon Horseman'. [M/M, LionTrust] [Stoutheart Keep] [Mixes movie and game lore]


Anduin Lothar should have known he was in for trouble the moment they left the Chamber of the Guardian.

He had spent the last three days with Khadgar, the two of them only venturing out for a few meals and for Lothar's walking tour of the floating city. Most of their time had been in the still-not-the-Guardian's bedroom, with food sent up (along with occasional messages from both the Kirin Tor and Ebon Blade to check on them, and to pass along plans for the Azsuna assault that was about to begin). After being separated for so long, Khadgar seemed determined to make up for lost time. His mage's stamina had to be magically enhanced, Lothar decided, and the death knight was certain he never would have been able to keep up if he'd still been mortal. Insatiability aside, however, both he and Khadgar were more than ready to join the fight on the Broken Isles. So, with one final kiss, they stepped out into the shining Dalaran dawn.

And that was when it started.

Almost immediately he and the Archmage were swarmed by well-wishers, citizens and fighters and anyone else looking to see them off to Azsuna. Khadgar was in exceptionally high spirits, smiling and laughing with the others – many of whom he obviously knew – even throwing in a few of his infamous puns as they made their way to Krasus's Landing. Lothar was confused. Why were all these people here, and why did they appear to have been waiting for the two to emerge from the Guardian's chamber that morning? Did they all know about his relationship with the Archmage? He and Khadgar couldn't have been *that* loud over the past few days, could they?

He cast a nervous glance at Khadgar, who just winked at him and then went back to chatting with a mixed group of Alliance and Horde personnel that he called 'champions'. He was giving the flightmaster instructions on where to have the fighters land so they could group up before the assault. Apparently they were all there to get the go-ahead to join the forces already in Azsuna.

Thank the Light that the entire city didn't know about him and Khadgar. Not that he minded people knowing, of course, but all this openness was still very new to him, plus having everyone find out because they were too noisy would have been very embarrassing!

"As for myself, I won't be needing a ride," continued the mage, finishing up his instructions for the flightmaster. "I prefer using the greatstaff Atiesh's raven form." He turned to Lothar, a lazy smile forming on his lips as his eyes drifted down to his partner's nether regions and hindquarters. "Nothing's worse than saddle sores."

Lothar practically choked at the blatant innuendo. As for Khadgar, he simply smiled beatifically before becoming the large black bird Lothar was so familiar with. The raven cawed loudly as it took to the air, and Lothar knew from long experience that it was the avian equivalent of laughter.

"Morning, Lothar," said Terrix as she ambled over, and smiled knowingly at the raven as it flew away. "I warned you about the sass."

Lothar was thankful that, in his present form, he couldn't manage a decent blush. In the past, a happy Khadgar had always been like a kid on a sugar high, and clearly the tendency was still with him. Lothar could only hope that once they arrived in Azsuna, Khadgar's attention would be on fighting the Legion and not making veiled references to the aftereffects of three days of sex, and that his problems would be over.

It was not to be.

Once they landed, Lothar could see that most of the contingent from the Ebon Blade was already there. They seemed to be in high spirits as well, ready to take on the Legion, and Lothar was embarrassed again when he realized he'd probably been keeping them waiting while he had one last go with Khadgar that morning.

He rubbed his forehead. This was probably not the best way to represent the Ebon Blade. But there was really no time to dwell on it. Now, he took his place at the forefront of their forces with the Deathlord, the other three Horsemen, and Darion Mograine. There was a look of anticipation on the Deathlord's face…on all their faces, actually…and then the chilling sound of a horn echoed over the battlefield.

"Ebon Blade – go!" Arrelon ordered, and the death knights surged forward, cutting through the Legion's ranks with undisguised, gleeful ferocity.

Lothar's training since his resurrection had certainly paid off. He was in his element, fighting hard, more powerful than he'd ever been in life, his runeblades working in tandem with his spells. Kimari Lightpaw was at his side, and nearby were Durotan and Xaelaan. Durotan looked like he was having the time of his life, and the draenei was calling out challenges to any demon within earshot. Lothar smiled tersely as she yelled something in her native tongue at a big eredar spellcaster, something that apparently enraged him.

"And they say goblins use bad language!" crowed Terrix from nearby.

"What did she say?" Lothar asked curiously.

"You don't want to know," replied Arrelon, watching as the draenei death-gripped the demon and yanked him forward, her twin swords connecting again and again.

"It involved forcibly removing his head and then doing something very unpleasant down what's left of his neck," Terrix explained. "But if she thinks that's the only way to get a demon within weapon range, she's thinking too small!" She pushed forward towards another group of demons, bone shield swirling around her.

"'SUP?" she taunted, in what Lothar was sure was the loudest and most insolent voice the goblin could muster. They turned and rushed her, but Thassarian and Koltira moved to intercept. Once those demons were down, the death knights turned their attention to a large female demon surrounded by a sea of tiny scampering ones.

"Is that the Imp Mother, Zokra or whatever her name was, that we were supposed to watch out for?" asked Lothar. He could tell the different races of demons apart, but those of the same type all looked alike to him.

Terrix shrugged. "Who cares? Let's kill her!"

"Giant imp woman," intoned Xaelaan as she approached. "I mock your value system. You also appear foolish to the eyes of others." She raised one eyebrow critically. "Plus, that outfit is unflattering."

The goblin rolled her eyes. "Xaelaan, I know threats of violence are your specialty, but seriously - you call that an insult? Pfft." She shook her head and yelled. "Hey, ugly! A chain mail bikini's a privilege, not a right!"

Lothar couldn't help himself. He laughed.

The draenei smirked at the demon. "Perhaps when you are dead, we can use it to make armor for our next dozen recruits."

Terrix was clearly on a roll. "Hey, imps! Yo mama's so fat it takes three warlocks to summon her!" She grinned at Lothar and gave him a thumb's up, and Lothar laughed again.

Darion's jaw dropped. "Are they seriously making jokes right now?" He eyed Lothar skeptically, as if he were responsible somehow. "'Yo mama' jokes?"

"What?" Lothar said helplessly, watching as they took the giant demon down. "Why are you blaming me?"

"Both you and the Archmage are known for your…sass, I've often heard it called," Darion pronounced, arching an eyebrow.

Lothar just shook his head, but there was no stopping the goblin now.

"Yo mama's so ugly, she gives the Emerald Nightmare bad dreams!" cried Terrix, leaping into a group of imps, her runeblade flashing through the air.

Now other death knights were joining in.

"Yo mama's so ugly, not even Brann Bronzebeard wants to explore her!" yelled a dwarf, grinning as he and his ghoul minion engaged a felguard.

"Yo mama's so fat, she can't fit through the Dark Portal!" an orc roared, barreling into a cluster of demons.

"Yo mama's so ugly, da voodoo tells people to stay away from her!" called a troll.

"Yo mama's so fat, Dalaran doesn't float while she's there!"

"Yo mama's so old she used to babysit Yogg-Saron!"

"Yo mama's so fat that when she sat on the Black Temple, it turned into the Sunken Temple!"

"Yo mama's so ugly, not even Illidan was prepared for her!"

"Yo mama's so fat, her gravitational pull made the Exodar crash!"

"I did not teach them this," Lothar insisted, even as more and more of the death knights called out their insults to the Legion, and looked to him for his approval.

Darion continued to glare at Lothar, and then turned to the Deathlord. "Arrelon—"

"Wait, I've got one," the blood elf proclaimed, then waved her swords at a group of demons. "Yo mama's so fat, Thousand Needles is what it takes to make her clothes!" She gazed expectantly at Lothar. "How was that? Wait, no, I know I can do better. Umm…" She thought for a moment. "Yo mama's so ugly, she went to Goldshire and people paid her to put her clothes back on!"

The caws of a raven echoed above them, and suddenly Khadgar was there. "Good one," he enthused, grinning at the Deathlord as more and more demons approached.

Lothar flashed a smile at Khadgar. If he was going to be blamed for starting this, he might as well join in.

He strode forward, runeblades in hand. "So," Lothar began innocently, gazing out at the throng of demons – and past the only obviously female one – in mock confusion. "Which one of you is Imp Mother Zokra?"

The demon roared in anger, and Lothar charged forward, grinning.

This was going to be a good day.


End file.
